


remember when you kissed me

by directorenno



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BoKuroo Week 2016, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 17:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/directorenno/pseuds/directorenno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how it goes – Tetsurou with his back pressed against the sheets, shirt sticky against his skin as the air conditioner rumbles and Bokuto worries his lip from above him, eyes glazed.<br/> </p><p>A collection of first kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	remember when you kissed me

**Author's Note:**

> BoKuroo week has come at last! I hope you enjoy reading these softer moments between our favorite dorks as much as I loved writing them.
> 
> Thanks to pepper for reading this over and being my guardian angel.
> 
> Also! A quick trigger warning for a scene dealing with depression.

 

 

This is how it goes – Tetsurou with his back pressed against the sheets, shirt sticky against his skin as the air conditioner rumbles and Bokuto worries his lip from above him, eyes glazed. Tetsurou’s nerves rumble along, queasy for the same reason that Bokuto’s shoulders shake as he buries his fists into the sheets. Tetsurou hides it with a smirk and a scoff.

 

“What?” he asks, “You changed your mind?”

 

There are lines in Bokuto’s features, hard lines that crease and furrow, pliable under Tetsurou’s gaze.

 

“No,” Bokuto says, puff of air catching on Tetsurou’s curled up lips.

 

His gaze is heavy the same way it is when they stand on opposite sides and Bokuto is about to spike his incredible cross. Bokuto leans down then, pressing their clumsy lips together so that he half covers Tetsurou’s lips and half covers Tetsurou’s chin. It is not much, but Tetsurou’s eyelids fall closed and his lips tingle and burn and they chase Bokuto for more.

 

An arm hooks around Bokuto’s neck and the other reaches out, sliding strands of hair through his fingers until they’re icky with gel. He presses Bokuto closer, catches his bottom lip between his teeth and tugs a little too hard. Tetsurou opens his eyes only to find Bokuto staring wide and innocent, and he grins, “You call that a kiss?”

 

Bokuto groans and his palm curls soft against Tetsurou’s pulse, thumb sliding over Tetsurou’s jaw as he licks his way inside. Too much tongue, too eager. Tetsurou’s shirt is summer sticky against his skin, but the only heat he feels is the low sizzle in his stomach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

With time Bokuto sets out on adventures, a lost stray pressing kisses to Tetsurou’s jaw. Kiss after kiss after kiss. Sigh after sigh after sigh, Tetsurou sighs into each touch. Bokuto slides further down, lips chapped and wet against Tetsurou’s neck and Tetsurou squirms. It sets the low fire to a high and does he want out or to burn alive – he doesn’t know.

 

Bokuto finds his earlobe and Tetsurou keens. There is a grin against the crook of his neck, the heat of Bokuto’s palm on his hip, and the press of a thumb smoothing over his cheek. Tetsurou’s chest throbs with something he can’t give. A humored breath blows against his ear.

 

“Now, who was it that said to be quiet, Kuroo?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“It’s a little scary, isn’t it?” Bokuto asks and Tetsurou nods.

 

“It is.”

 

Tetsurou has changed for bed by now, old pajama pants hanging low on his hips and a worn shirt dragged over his head. Bokuto is still in his uniform, sitting next to Tetsurou with his lips pressed into a thin line. Bokuto’s brows meet in a frown and the bundle of muscle scrunches together, distorting his features with worry.

 

Tetsurou’s fingers crawl closer, inch by inch, until they touch Bokuto’s. He tries not to think of the heavy feeling in his chest, of Kenma on the other side of the city and how they won’t meet on the way to school tomorrow.

 

“At least we’ll be together,” Tetsurou says.

 

Bokuto hums and links their hands together, fingers curling between Tetsurou’s. They sit, quiet and lost in their own worlds and their own thoughts, until Tetsurou’s phone buzzes, the light flickering on and off, and he sighs. He gets up and presses his hands against Bokuto’s jaw, nudging him to look up. Their gazes catch.

 

Tetsurou leans down then, meeting the tight bundle of muscle with a soft kiss.

 

“You need to go home now, Bo. You start early tomorrow.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tetsurou’s dorm is dark with the curtains closed, dark but warm. The arm slung around him pulls him closer and Tetsurou grins, welcoming the pleasant heat. His hand lies curled against the skin underneath Bokuto’s shirt, fingers rubbing circles into the softness. Now and then a sharp hitch of Bokuto’s breath accompanies them. Tetsurou chuckles low.

 

“Your fingers shouldn’t be allowed to be this cold this time of the year,” Bokuto says, finger tapping against Tetsurou’s shoulder and Tetsurou snorts.

 

“You shouldn’t be a human boiler any time of the year and yet here you are.”

 

“Is this your way of calling me hot, Kuroo?”

 

Tetsurou doesn’t reply. He plays with the hem of Bokuto’s shirt instead and slowly tugs it up, revealing Bokuto’s hard belly. Tetsurou grins, letting his fingers skim over the skin and leans down, pressing a kiss to Bokuto’s stomach. Then another, grinning at the sharp inhale when he catches Bokuto’s bellybutton between his teeth.

 

Bokuto tenses when Tetsurou lets go and Tetsurou’s grin widens. He returns his lips to Bokuto’s belly, nerves humming when he nuzzles closer, and blows a raspberry into the skin. Bokuto pushes Tetsurou’s head away and giggles loud.

 

Tetsurou smiles as he watches, a little bit in love, maybe. He wants Bokuto to remember how warm the dark can feel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tetsurou suckles petals into Bokuto’s thighs, a collection of pink and red and black. His teeth dig into the skin, taste the sweat and the salt and the soft groans as Bokuto shoves the back of his head into his pillows, legs quaking. Tetsurou suckles and chews and presses sweet kisses to the sore skin when he’s done, scraping his teeth further down, a path of flowers blossoming down Bokuto’s legs.

 

“ _Tetsu_.”

 

Tetsurou presses one last kiss to the print of his teeth in Bokuto’s skin and raises himself up, rubbing his hands over Bokuto’s thighs. He grins, ignoring the strain of his own boxers.

 

“You needed me, Bo?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“No, _you_ ’re totally hot.”

 

“No, _you_ ’re totally hotter.”

 

“No, _you_ ’re tota – _ouch_.”

 

Tetsurou retracts his hand from Koutarou’s back and squeezes the sponge he holds in his hand. “Kou? You okay?”

 

Koutarou shifts in place. Maybe if he does he won’t have to answer to the concerned dip of Tetsurou’s brows.

 

“Of course,” he says, “just my shoulder acting up. It happens.”

 

“It happens?”

 

“… Yes?”

 

“ _Koutarou_ – ”

 

“ _I know_.”

 

“The doctor said not to strain your – ”

 

“ _I know._ It’s just a little ache, Tetsu, I swear. Nothing a warm shower can’t fix!”

 

But Tetsurou’s gaze is unforgiving. Hard lines etch into his face, not nearly as pliable under Koutarou’s eyes, and he motions at the warm water that washes over them. Koutarou smiles, guilty tell-tale quirk playing at the edge of his lips, and Tetsurou averts his gaze, frowning deeper. He sighs. He presses a kiss to Koutarou’s shoulder.

 

“Not cool, Kou,” he mumbles into the skin, hears Koutarou sigh along.

 

“Another.”

 

Tetsurou abides, pressing another kiss to Koutarou’s shoulder.

 

“Again?” he asks and Koutarou nods.

 

“On the lips this time?”

 

“Oh?”

 

But Tetsurou finds Koutarou’s lips with his own in a quick brush and he grins wide and sly at the happy grin on Koutarou’s face, hair dripping wet and sticking to his cheeks.

 

“Another?” Koutarou asks and shrugs, like there’s nothing to be done  about it, “Doctor’s orders.”

 

So Tetsurou finds Koutarou’s lips again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They lie curled into each other, all limbs and displeased grunts as Koutarou moves and wiggles again and Tetsurou just wants to sleep. He has class tomorrow morning. Koutarou has training. Tetsurou’s arm hangs over Koutarou’s chest and the back of Koutarou’s arm lies against a pillow, their fingers entwined. They could let go, but –

 

Koutarou brings their joined hands to his mouth and kisses the back of Tetsurou’s hand; rough, chapped lips on rough, calloused skin. It feels nice, tender in a way Tetsurou has come to expect. In a way he has come to reciprocate.

 

“Tetsu,” Koutarou says and Tetsu groans in acknowledgment. It is silent for a long while, before Koutarou breaks the silence.

 

“I think I’m in love with you.”

 

Tetsu buries himself deeper into the hollow of Kou’s neck, words whispered when he speaks next. There is a gentle squeeze of his ass and Tetsu knows Kou heard him.

 

 

 

 

*

 

This isn’t what they expected, but this is how it goes – Tetsu with his back pressed against the sheets and Kou above him, their lips ablaze.

 

*

 

 

 

 

Kou chuckles low and bites down. A soft warning. He revels in the kick of Tetsu’s leg and the high yelp that follows. Tetsu squirms and Koutarou kneads his fingers into the plump flesh of his ass, lets the skin slide under his tongue and open lips. His pulse is always a little quicker when they take the time, when Tetsurou doesn’t know what way to tangle himself and whines loud for attention.

 

Koutarou lets his teeth scrape and presses a light kiss into new territory of unbitten skin, curling his fingers a little deeper into Tetsurou. Then his teeth sink down.

 

“Kou, _I swear_ ,” Tetsurou says, broken and ragged, pushed one kiss too far. “Stop eating my ass and _start_ _eating my ass or so help me – !_ ”

 

 

 

 

 

 

They sit in the back corner, away from the people, where it is loud enough to talk yet quiet enough to hear the music. Koutarou’s already on his second burger and Tetsurou is looking at him with That grin on his face as he chews on his fries and Koutarou can’t help but grin right back. They don’t often get the chance to go on dates like this.

 

Koutarou covers Tetsurou’s hand with his own, thumb brushing over the back of it, as he eyes the couple a few tables away. “Want to out-couple them?” he asks.

 

Koutarou’s grin is sly and teasing, a joke, but he loves the way Tetsurou rolls his eyes before he stares at the table, loves the way Tetsurou’s grin grows and the tips of his ears color that little bit darker. Koutarou lets go of Tetsurou’s hand to pick at the salad pieces slipping out of his burger. Tetsurou wasn’t supposed to respond.

 

“You think you can?”

 

Tetsurou is staring at the table, grin shaky as he bites into his own burger, but Koutarou knows that tone of voice. It is a dare, loud and clear as any Koutarou’s ever heard, and Koutarou cannot refuse. He takes Tetsurou’s hand back in his.

 

“Tetsu, _honey_ ,” he says, “I _know_ I can.”

 

Koutarou presses his hands down flat against the table then and pushes himself up to crush his lips against Tetsurou’s. Tetsurou leans into the kiss, mouth full of fastfood and Koutarou’s lips are sticky with sauce, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Apparently, neither can Tetsurou. Koutarou feels Tetsurou’s lips quirk up against his.

 

When he flops back into his seat, it is Tetsurou that grins wide and Koutarou that stares at the table, unsure of how to deal with the tightness in his chest.

 

“Baby, they didn’t even notice.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is the middle of august and Koutarou lies huddled underneath his winter covers; he is still cold. The curtains are drawn shut and it is dark and lonely. There is a dip in the mattress, Koutarou can tell, a shift in the covers.

 

“Kou.”

 

But Koutarou doesn’t budge. Fingers run through his hair, tug gently at his locks, and the warmth of another body crawls close. A hand reaches out, pulling Koutarou’s head a little closer and Tetsurou presses a kiss to the tip of his nose.

 

“I want to sleep,” Koutarou says, the fingers growing silent against his jaw. “I want to sleep and I can’t.”

 

“Yeah,” Tetsurou says and Koutarou understands. What else is there to say? Koutarou shifts and turns the other way; Tetsurou’s hand slides down to his hip.

 

“I have work at 7 today,” Tetsurou says, yet he doesn’t move.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

A strong squeeze on his hip.

 

Koutarou is still cold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Koutarou finds Kuroo in the kitchen, back turned to him as Kuroo works on a bowl of cereal. They look a little like heaven, chocolate dipped, and Kuroo refuses to share them. Kuroo looks a little like heaven too, standing behind the kitchen counter wearing nothing but his boxers and an old shirt that keeps slipping off his shoulder.

 

Koutarou walks over and presses a kiss against the back of Kuroo’s neck. Kuroo looks up and smiles, leaning back against Koutarou.

 

“You’re up,” he says, adding milk to his bowl and Koutarou nods. Kuroo turns his head and presses a morning kiss to Koutarou’s cheek, lifting the edges of his lips into a smile. Kuroo escapes from under his arms then, carton of milk in hand as he turns to the fridge.

 

“Nice ass,” Koutarou grins and takes one look at the bowl of cereal in front of him.

 

“ _You_ ’re an ass.”

 

Koutarou chuckles, halfway out the kitchen, and says, “An ass you like to kiss though.”

 

A bemused chuckle. “Who told you?”

 

A beat of silence, and – “Oi! Just because you live here now doesn’t mean you can just _steal_ my cereal! _Bo_!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

A collection of empty cans sits scattered on the floor and the bitter taste lingers in Koutarou’s mouth. The same way their first victory lingers in the taut string of his tired muscles. Music blasts from Kuroo’s computer, overpowering the quick and clumsy smacking of Kuroo’s lips against his, tasting of beer and victory too.

 

Koutarou’s hand rests low on the small of Kuroo’s back, edging him closer gentle push by push as Kuroo crawls farther into his lap.

 

“It’s late,” Koutarou says, he knows better than the itch in his fingers, “The subway is closing soon, I should go.”

 

Kuroo stills and when Koutarou opens his eyes he finds Kuroo looking at his lap, chewing on the inside of his cheek. With a sigh, he rests his forehead against Koutarou’s. The skin is a little feverish.

 

“Absolutely nowhere,” Kuroo says, “Stay.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

Kuroo grins and wraps his arms around the back of Koutarou’s neck.

 

Koutarou goes absolutely nowhere, he stays.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The TV hums low beside them, the newsreader muted to a low mumble. They are spread out next to each other on his bed and Kuroo holds his leg captive under the hook of his knee. Kuroo is reading out loud, book held firm between his thumb and curled fingers. Koutarou keeps his eyelids closed, breathes deep, and listens. For hours maybe, or a few minutes only, his pinky twisted around the edge of Kuroo’s jeans.

 

Until he stops and rolls over, burying his head into Kuroo’s stomach. A hand nuzzles against his head then, followed by an appreciative hum. Kuroo’s fingers scrape against his scalp and Koutarou buries himself deeper, until the hand in his hair goes slack.

 

“I didn’t use any hair gel today,” he says and mumbles the words into the fabric of Kuroo’s shirt.

 

Kuroo does not even send him a curious glance, reciting poem after poem. Kuroo talks of meetings in unknown realms and dreams and pillows and rose petals and wetted sleeves and – Koutarou misses the unspoken words spoken in between.

 

“For you,” he adds.

 

Kuroo’s voice grows louder. Stubborn.

 

Koutarou growls and raises himself up, brows furrowed together with riled up determination as he presses the flat of his palm over Kuroo’s lips. Kuroo goes quiet, his eyes wide with surprise as they stare into Koutarou’s. Finally.

 

A smile twitches against the inside of his palm. The soft press of a kiss. Koutarou turns his head and looks down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The water is cool against Koutarou’s throat and Koutarou brings the back of his hand to his mouth when he finishes. Kuroo is dabbing the collar of his shirt against his neck and Koutarou grins wide, extending a hand as he offers Kuroo his half empty bottle. Kuroo’s lips coil into a sly smirk and his eyes shine wicked, fingers brushing against Koutarou’s.

 

He brings the mouth of the bottle to his lips and takes a long gulp, finishing what was left. A happy sigh falls from his lips.

 

“Thanks for the refreshment,” he says, voice a sing-song tell-tale of smug self-satisfaction as he hands the bottle back. Koutarou stares at the empty bottle in his hands, then back at Kuroo, his gaze hitching on Kuroo’s lips and his cheeks darken.

 

Kuroo’s laughter rings in his ears and Koutarou chokes on air, grateful when Akaashi calls him for their match against Shinzen.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Time to work on the other two prompts I want to write for. (I spent wayyy too much time on this prompt.)
> 
> Talk to me about BoKuroo on tumblr, [here.](http://directorennoshita.tumblr.com/)


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